


Falling Over the Edge

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Gen, alfred!feels, countries being jerks, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred's bad habit is getting worse due to the cruelty of others, and there is only so much a person can take before they get pushed over the edge. Rated M due to sensitive subject matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

(A/N): I came up with this out of the blue. I guess I'm on an angst kick. Oh well, I hope you enjoy the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own it, no matter how many wishes I make. Sorry.

Warnings for this chapter include: self-harm and sensitive subject matter.

I'm not going to lie to you. It hurts. But after a while, you just stop caring. Because it's a good hurt. Any pain is welcome compared to what is inflicted by others.

They act as if I'm truly stupid, like I can't hear the horrible and degrading things they say behind my back. Hell, they've said as much to my face. And sure, I smile and laugh it all off like none of it bothers me, but that's only because if I were to show how much it actually hurts, they'd think me weak, and it would only progressively get worse. And truth be told, I don't think I can take much more.

I guess I first started flirting with the razor blade during the Cold War. It was a tough time. I was paranoid, so I didn't have many friends. It seemed like everyone was turning against me. Tension was running high, and I needed a release before I exploded and did something stupid. Well, more stupid than cutting, that is. The first time, I was scared. I actually threw up at the sight of my own blood running down my arm in rivulets. But once I started, I couldn't stop. The rich crimson color became almost hypnotizing. Addicting, if you will. After the war ended, I was less stressed so the need to cut grew weak. Then came 911. It was the single worst day in my country's history. But I'm sure I don't need to tell you that. Paranoia was everywhere. People were coming closer, but at the same time they were being driven further apart, because nobody trusted anybody. I didn't trust anybody. Not even Mattie. It was only a matter of time before I started up again. And since then, I've never had a reason to stop. At least not one that was good enough.

I have trust issues, in case you didn't know. From a very young age I was taught that no emotions are the best emotions you can possibly show. That cool indifference is your best friend, and caring and love are your worst enemies. These were just snippets of the boundless wisdom that England found fit to share with me, a young impressionable colony. And it certainly made an impression. I learned, that by placing belief in England's love for me, I was just deluding myself. The only one he loves is France. I was just stupid enough to fall for his act.

If the other countries knew my dirty little secret, they would be shocked. I'm supposed the be different. Carefree. Thoughtless. Ignorance is bliss, after all. But the sad part is, I haven't been ignorant for a long time. And I only have the other countries to thank for that.


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N): So I was reading more depressing hetalia fics, and this is what the results were.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Sucks, huh?

Warning: Rated M for sensitive subject matter. Possible harsh language.

Air escapes my lungs in the form of a shuddering breath as the razor blade bites into the skin of my left arm. I instantly feel... not exactly happy, or even content, but better. Cutting always makes me feel better. I smile as I read the words carved into my already mutilated flesh. Worthless. Freak. Fat. Pathetic. I put them there as a reminder. A reminder that I don't matter. That I am nothing. These are the words engraved in my brain. Words that everyone thinks. Words that everyone has spoken to me at one point or another. My smile grows, but fails to reach my eyes as I rise from the corner I'm crouched in. I'd stay longer, but our meeting break is almost over, and if I'm late the torment will only start again. Using the rubbing alcohol that I store in my brief case, and the water from the sink, I manage to clear the blood away before I bandage my wounds. It simply would not do for me to get an infection. Not to mention it hides the scars.

"America, where were you! You were supposed to be here two minutes ago! Everyone except for you managed to make it back on time!" Arthur yelled, drawing everyone's attention in the process. " Chill, Iggy dude! Its only two minutes." I reply, pasting my usual fake grin across my face.

Typical England. No matter how many times I insist he calls me Alfred, he refuses. He says its only something friends do, and we are not friends. And we both know, had it been anyone else late, no one would make a big deal. But since its me, I brace myself for the onslaught of comments sure to follow his exclamation.

"Mon Dieu, Amerique, must you always be so inconsiderate?" There goes France.

"You still have not paid my debt, aru. Its because you are so lazy." One guess who.

Their insults blur together as I begin to tune them out. Russia's words automatically bring me back to the present though. "We should expect nothing less from America. Him being the worthless capitalist pig he is. I only wish he had stayed gone instead of returning to the meeting where he is obviously unwanted. Our time here would have gone on much more smoothly had he not returned." he says, his thick accent seemingly disappearing as the cruel words are spoken. No one seems to dispute his statement. Some even appear to be agreeing.

My smile slips a bit as I go to retort. England cuts me off.

"Just sit down and keep your worthless ideas to your self America. We can't continue the meeting if you interrupt us with your useless chatter."

My smile falls completely, replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

"But of course, England. You go on ahead. I think I'm going to head home. Something I ate must not have sat right with me." I say as I sweep my hand in front of me in a gesture reminiscent of a game show hostess. He starts yelling as I walk away, but his words are cut off by the closing of the door behind me.


End file.
